


Human Nature

by ElectricityLingerss



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Coulson Lives, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Post-Avengers (2012), References to Alcohol, Self-Worth Issues, Truth Serum, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricityLingerss/pseuds/ElectricityLingerss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'He tried to psyche himself up as he followed Coulson down the corridor to his office. He told himself he could be a mature, rational adult. Yep, absolutely no reason for anything to be uncomfortable or weird, no reason at all. Right.'</p><p> </p><p>When Thor offers you some Asgardian alcohol, you say no. Always. Definitely if you have a huge crush on your co-worker that you're trying to keep under wraps. You will regret it. Especially when you find out you have to pose as a couple together for an undercover mission a few days later, when things have become unbearably awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crayyyonn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayyyonn/gifts).



Clint Barton tried not to fidget as he stood in front of Director Fury’s desk. He was hyperaware of Phil Coulson standing less than two feet away from him. Clint imagined that he could feel the heat radiating off of Coulson’s body. He had always run hot. But he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. 

“Right,” Fury said abruptly, startling Clint out his thoughts. “Let’s get right down to it shall we?” Fury picked up two slim files from his desk and passed them to Clint and Phil. “This mission is top priority, which is why you’ve been chosen to head it.”

Clint flicked through the file but stopped dead when saw the words, ‘25th Annual LGBT+ Christmas Ball and Fundraiser.’ He silently prayed this wasn’t going in the direction he thought it was. He registered Coulson suddenly tense beside him and guessed he’d come to the same conclusion. 

“Sir… What exactly does this mission entail?” Coulson said cautiously. 

Fury smiled slightly. “I want you both to know that you’re free to turn down this mission at any point. I chose you both because I think you’re the best suited to the brief, and have the skills needed to make this mission a success. However, you won’t be forced into it.” 

Clint’s sense of apprehension was building with every word despite Fury’s reassurances. 

“We need you to go undercover at this event and stop a possible attack that we have received intelligence on. We don’t have much to go on, but we have considerable evidence that there is a high level threat. All of that is in the file.” Fury gestured towards the folders. 

Clint cleared his throat. “When you say undercover…”

“You’ll be required to pose as a couple. As guests at the event.” Clint’s stomach sank as Fury looked him straight in the eye. He fought to keep his expression neutral and his gaze away from Coulson. 

“Is that absolutely necessary?” Coulson asked in a flat voice. 

Clint couldn’t stop the flash of hurt that sliced through him at Coulson’s question, and Fury definitely noticed. His eye kept flicking between the two agents curiously. 

“Yes. It is. The people in charge of the event have been informed of the danger, but they insisted on everything running as normal, and that any efforts taken to counteract the threat, be as unobtrusive as possible. You’ll need to communicate with each other and work in sync. Pretending to be a couple is the easiest solution. This has to be done with tact. You’re the only senior agents available who have the experience for this. Plus, I assume you two are comfortable with the gay relationship side of the mission?”

Clint snorted, but Coulson just sighed softly and nodded. “That won’t be a problem.” 

“I thought not. So, what’s the verdict?” 

Clint could feel Coulson’s eyes burning into the side of his face, but he kept his eyes resolutely on what he was reading, teeth biting his bottom lip nervously.

“Is there something going on here I should know about?” Fury asked suspiciously, his eye still bouncing from one agent to the other. 

Clint opened his mouth, to say what he wasn’t sure, but Coulson interrupted him before he could speak. 

“We had a… minor personal disagreement. Can we have a few moments to discuss this?”

Fury gave Coulson a long look, but eventually agreed. “Give me your answer by the end of the day.”

Coulson gave a sharp nod and strode out of the room with Clint trailing along behind. Coulson didn’t even glance back, trusting Clint to follow. He tried to psyche himself up as he followed Coulson down the corridor to his office. He told himself he could be a mature, rational adult. Yep, absolutely no reason for anything to be uncomfortable or weird, no reason at all. Right.

Clint stepped through the doorway into the office and let the door swing shut, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the wall in front of him. He couldn’t face seeing pity in Coulson’s eyes.

Coulson sighed heavily and slumped down to lean against the front of his desk, hands dragging down his face wearily. “You can back out.” Coulson said quietly. 

Clint jerked his eyes to Coulson’s face in surprise, not having expected that.

“I wouldn’t hold it against you,” Coulson continued. 

“Is this your way of telling me not to accept the mission?” Clint asked, tension running through his voice like a blade. 

“No, this is me telling you I’d understand if you’d rather not… enter into a mission of this nature right now.” Coulson looked down at his lap before continuing at a near whisper. “Especially with me.” 

Clint tried to choke down the sudden lump in his throat and turned his head to the side. He had to hold it together, had to salvage _something_ from this train wreck of a situation. He couldn’t lose Coulson completely. He had to suck it up and accept what he could get. Even if it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. 

“I can handle it,” Clint said, proud that he kept his voice steady. “Fury’s right, we’re the only ones with the experience for this.” Clint hesitated before adding, “But, If _you’d_ rather not work with _me_ , then…”

“Clint… You’re still the person I trust most in the world. There’s nobody else I’d rather have watching my back in the field.” Coulson met Clint’s startled eyes. “No matter what happens between us outside of work, that’s _never_ going to change.”

“How can you…”

“You can’t help what you feel, Clint. I’d never hold what happened… or what happened after… against you. Just like I’m hoping you won’t hold it against me.”

Clint flinched. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Neither did you,” Coulson said urgently, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to Clint, only to stop short when Clint shrank back. “ _Clint_. Neither did you. I understand, and it wasn’t your fault. Not anymore than it was mine. It was just a stupid mistake.” 

Clint felt sick. He couldn’t stand there and listen to Coulson tell him how much he regretted everything; how big of a mistake it was. Another slash appeared in his already ripped heart. 

“Right,” Clint spat out, “A mistake. Of course.” He knew how Coulson felt, but to actually hear it was almost more than he could bear. 

Coulson seemed startled by Clint’s reaction. “Clint, what--?”

“Do you want to tell Fury we’re in or shall I?” Clint butted in harshly. 

Coulson gave him a long miserable look. “I will.”

“Great,” his voice rang with false cheer. “See you at the briefing. I’ve got a date with my bow.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the office.

He headed straight to the range and tried to lose himself in the comfort and familiarity of hitting target after target, staying there for hours and trying to sort his head out. He almost stopped a dozen times, intending to go tell Fury that he couldn’t take the assignment. He knew it was a bad idea, that he would be taunting himself with something that he knew he could never have. 

He could feel tears pricking at his eyes, and released a series of arrows with a lot more force than was necessary. Not only was it definite that he would never be able to have Phil Coulson the way he wanted him, but their friendship would never be the same, either. 

All because of one _’mistake’._

But in the end, he couldn’t deny himself one last chance to pretend.

•••

Phil collapsed into his desk chair and buried his face in his hands. That had gone horribly. He could feel Clint slipping away from him, and felt totally powerless to stop it. Clint was becoming harder and harder to read.

He hadn’t been lying when he had told Clint that he understood. But that didn’t mean that waking up the next morning aching pleasantly, but alone, and with the hangover from hell was a nice experience. Fucking Thor and his fucking Asgardian mead. And then, to top it all off, he had to suffer through Clint _apologising_ to him the next day. Like what they did was _wrong_ somehow. Phil had been so shocked that he had just stood there gaping at Clint like an idiot, as pain laced through him. 

He had thought he’d won the fucking lottery when he had finally – after years of working together and pining silently – gotten a taste of Clint Barton. He had thought it would be the start of something amazing, even in his inebriated state. But reality soon set in, and it became clear that Clint just wanted to forget it had ever happened. 

The best night of Phil’s life, and he couldn’t even bring himself to think about it. And now this fucking mission, during which he would have to pretend like nothing was wrong, have to act blissfully happy and in love, even though his heart felt like it was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. 

Phil still couldn’t believe he’d let himself be that weak. It wasn’t in the plans for Clint to ever find out how he felt. He’s always known, deep down, that someone as amazing as Clint could want nothing with a boring middle-aged man like him. He knew he had nothing to offer, but for that one glorious night, he had let himself hope. And now he was paying for it. 

Phil sighed and shoved down his misgivings. He rose to his feet and made his way back to Fury’s office, dreading the interrogation he would surely face when he got there. He and Nick had been friends for far too long for him not to notice when Phil was off. 

He strode into the room without knocking and stepped up to the desk, getting straight to the point. 

“We accept the mission. I’ll let you know how it progresses.” With that he turned on his heel and headed back to the door. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Phil stopped but didn’t turn. “Back to my office. I have prep to do.” He took another step forward. 

“Phil, stop. Come back here.”

He considered making a run for it, but decided against it. He wouldn’t put it past Fury to follow him. He pivoted back reluctantly, but looked Fury straight in the eye.

“What the fuck is with you and Barton?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, Sir.”

Fury looked less than convinced. “Whatever it is, it’s clearly fucking with both of your heads. Do I need to pull you from this mission?”

“We’ll be fine,” Phil gritted out.

“You don’t seem fine. If one or both of you jeopardizes this mission—“

“It won’t come to that,” Phil insisted. “Like I said, there was a personal… incident. It will blow over.” Phil hoped. “You said yourself that we’re the best qualified for this.” 

“The best, but not the only. I could pull Romanov—“

“For an LGBT event?” Phil asked sceptically. “Besides, she’s gone dark. No contact for at least a month.”

Fury just stared at him for a long moment, and Phil fought not to squirm under the scrutiny. “You’re far from filling me with confidence.”

Phil sighed. “What do you want me to say, Nick? Yes, things between us are a little strained, but we’re professionals. We’ll be fine.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Phil shrugged. “It’s not ideal, but it’s the best we can do right now.” 

“Don’t make me regret this.” Fury said after a few moments of silence. 

Phil nodded and went out, hoping desperately that he wasn’t about to prove himself a liar.

•••

“Barton, good of you to join us.”

Clint looked up, squinting over the rim of his monster-sized to-go cup of coffee to glare at the owner of that voice. “Shove it, Sitwell. You’re lucky I made it here at all. What kind of sadist sets up a briefing at 6:00am?”

“6:12 now.”

“Fuck off.”

Sitwell just laughed at him. The dick. Clint stumbled further into the room and fell into the closest of the chairs surrounding the large conference table, not realising until too late that he was directly opposite Coulson. He froze for a millisecond as their gazes met across the table, before wrenching his eyes away and grabbing the briefing packet in front of him and gazing curiously at the other five or so agents scattered around the table. 

“Right, let’s get started now that we’re all here,” Sitwell began, with a pointed glance towards Clint. “I’ll be heading the backstage portion of this operation. I’ll be your eyes and ears as far as surveillance and research goes. So, as you all know, we have reason to believe that there will an attack on the Spectrum Ball – a LGBT+ ball and fundraiser – this Friday night. As of yet we don’t know exactly what kind of attack it will be, but we’re preparing for the worst. Assassination, bomb threat, you name it. The organizers of the event have been receiving threats for approximately a month, copies of which are in your info packets. It’s the usual homophobic spiel, as well as something along the lines of, ‘the truth will be revealed’.”

Clint snorted inelegantly at that, and felt Phil’s eyes flick to his face. Sitwell spared him a glance before continuing. 

“Now, the reason this is so high profile, and hence the reason SHIELD is involved, is that the main suspect is a man called Alexander Decker.” Sitwell paused to fiddle with his laptop, before a grainy photograph of a middle-aged man appeared projected on the wall. He looked harmless enough. Dark brown hair, average build, glasses. “Decker’s threat level is as high as it gets. SHIELD has been trying to pin him down for years, but he’s a slippery bastard. He’s been linked to dozens of hate crimes and bombings. A gay nightclub in DC was blown up a couple of years ago. Killed thirty-three people. We thought we had him for that, but he managed to wiggle out of it yet again.” 

Clint’s stomach churned as he slid some crime scene photos out of his pack, studying the carnage from nightclub bombing. 

“He’s also tangled up in multiple drugs cases and cyber terrorism. He’s a nasty piece of work and has an ego the size of Texas. This time we’re going to catch him in the act, so there’s no way he can get out of it. He’s become complacent, thinks he’s untouchable, but this time he made a mistake. We managed to trace some of the online threats directed at the event back to a know alias of his that was connected to several other attacks. We know he’s going to be there, he’s sadistic enough to want to see the devastation first hand.

“So, the plan is this: Coulson and Barton will be going undercover at the ball as guests; as newlyweds or a newly engaged couple.” Clint fought to keep his expression neutral as several curious sets of eyes flicked between him and Coulson after this revelation. “It’s your job to mingle, keep your eyes open and identify the threat as fast as possible.” Clint nodded and chanced a glance at Coulson. “And most importantly, be convincing. You’re supposed to be in love. Make sure you act like it.” Clint grit his teeth and tried not to drown in the irony. 

“It’s not our first rodeo, Jasper,” Phil said irritably. 

Sitwell simply nodded and continued. “We’ve also managed to get Taylor and Rani in as service staff, so you won’t be alone. Taylor, you’ll be on one of the doors, so hopefully we’ll get an early identification from you.” Taylor, a 6’ 4” beast of a man with shaggy blond hair and the physique of a linebacker, nodded and crossed his arms over his enormous chest. 

“Rani, you’ll be behind the bar, so you should be able to get a good look at the guests. You’ll also be waitressing if needed, so you’ll get a chance to work the room.”

“Sounds good to me,” Rani said. “I worked that nightclub case. I’ve been waiting years to catch that bastard.” 

Clint’s opinion of Agent Rani went up a notch. He had never worked with her before, but she had seemed very quiet and delicate. Almost the exact opposite of Agent Taylor, she couldn’t have been much taller than 5', and looked almost childlike with her huge dark eyes and toffee coloured skin. Clint was glad to see that she had some backbone. Of course, knowing SHIELD, and the type of people they tended to employ, she could probably kill him just with one of her earrings. 

“Well, hopefully now you’ll get your chance,” Sitwell said decisively. 

“Count on it. The only two ways that piece of shit is leaving that party is in handcuffs, or a body bag.”

Sitwell looked on approvingly. 

“Oh, I like you,” Clint told her. “I can tell already we’re going to be BFFs.”

“You do seem to have a soft spot for women who could kill you with their little finger,” Rani smirked. “I’m was surprised Romanov wasn’t working this case actually.”

“She’s unavailable,” Coulson said. “But I’m sure you’ll more than make up for her absence Agent Rani.” 

“Damn straight.” She sat back in her char looking smug. 

Coulson smiled at her and Clint forced down an irrational surge of jealously, wondering if Coulson would ever smile at him like that again. He wrenched his attention back to Sitwell. 

“Anders, Sutter, Grady and I will be surveillance and back-up. We’ll be searching every camera and news feed to try and identify Decker as soon as possible. We can also send in one of you as an additional undercover if necessary, but we’d like to keep the number inside to a minimum. Too many unfamiliar faces might spook him, as he’s no doubt studied the guest list. The main thing we need to accomplish is to get a tracker on him as soon as possible, so we don’t lose him. Whichever one of you can get closest, go for it. Please study your info packets closely; you’ll need to know this guy inside and out. Any questions?”

Nobody spoke, most engrossed in the files in front of them. 

“In that case I’ll se you all on Friday, and don’t forget to stop by R&D for wardrobe and weaponry. Good luck.”

•••

“Hey, Clint! Heads up!”

Clint turned sharply at the sound of Coulson’s voice. He was loitering outside SHIELD where he and Coulson had agreed to meet before the party. Even if they were both still low-key and unlikely to be recognized, despite all of the Avengers hoopla, two guys in tuxedos leaving Stark Tower was bound to attract some attention. 

He faced Coulson and just had time to admire his trim body in a tuxedo, before he had to concentrate on catching whatever Coulson had thrown at him. He peered down at the contents of his hand and inhaled sharply. 

“Are these...? Are these the keys to Stark’s Aston Martin?” Clint squeaked. 

“Yep, I borrowed it for the night. Thought be should arrive in style,” Coulson said casually, as if he didn’t know Clint had been drooling over that car since how moved into the tower. 

“Oh my God. How did you get Stark to agree to this?”

“Easy, I neglected to inform him I was taking it.”

Clint choked on an incredulous laugh. “Holy shit, Boss. You _stole_ one of Tony Stark’s cars?”

“Stole is a strong word. We’ll get it back to him.” He smiled a Clint, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Come on, I parked it out back.”

Clint practically ran round the side of the building, hands gliding along the smooth pillows of leather and sharp edges of metal that made up the keys he had been eyeing for months. When the DB10 came into view, he stepped right up to it and ran his had along the glossy grey curves of the body reverently. He had been drawn to the car from the first moment he saw it, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the colour was almost exactly the same shade as Coulson’s eyes. Nope. Definitely not. 

He glanced up to see Coulson watching him with an indulgent smile on his face and blushed, removing his hand. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t apologise. Let’s get going before we both freeze.” It was only then that Clint realised that he was still holding the keys, and Coulson was standing by the passenger side door. 

“You mean you’re going to let me drive?”

“Of course.” Coulson looked puzzled that Clint would ask. 

Clint’s heart fluttered in his chest as he just looked at Coulson. God, he loved him so much. He broke eye contact and willed down a surge of regret. Maybe if he hadn’t thought it would be been a good idea to get totally shit-faced on Thor’s trippy Asgardian alcohol and drag Coulson to bed, he might have had a chance at something. But he knew it was all too late, and he had to live with the fact that he had taken advantage. He wanted his friend back so badly, but it just hurt so much. This was the most normal it had felt since it all turned to shit. 

“Thanks, Boss.”

Coulson’s expression faltered for a second before he settled back into a smile. The shift was so fast Clint almost thought he imagined it. He unlocked the car and Coulson quickly ducked inside. Clint sighed at the loss of the easy atmosphere, but couldn’t contain his awe as he slid into the driver’s seat. He fingered the smooth leather of the steering wheel and caressed the gearshift with his palm. He looked over at Coulson excitedly, and saw him staring back at him with something unreadable in his eyes that made Clint catch his breath. 

“We need to get going, or we’ll be late,” Coulson said quietly, turning his head to stare straight ahead out of the windshield. 

Clint swallowed and nodded, slipping the key into the slot and listening to the engine purr to life. He blocked everything out as he drove, enjoying the ride and psyching himself up for what was to come. Soon enough he was pulling up at the entrance to the ball, and an overeager valet was opening his door. No doubt he was more than a little excited to be able to drive the car, even if it was just to a lot a block away. 

Clint stepped out and stood by the side of the car, straightening his cuffs as he waited for Coulson to walk around to meet him. He felt a presence beside him and managed to supress a flinch as Coulson slipped a warm hand into one of his. 

Right. In love. Shouldn’t be too hard right?

Clint smiled at Coulson and let him lead him into the venue, and soon enough, he was standing in the middle of a large, glitzy ballroom. He found himself clutching at Coulson’s hand like a lifeline, having never felt comfortable in such opulent settings, and forced himself to relax. He had a job to do, and never let it be said that Clint Barton buckled under pressure. 

“We’re in position,” Coulson muttered under his breath.

“Acknowledged,” Clint heard Sitwell reply through his earpiece. 

They threaded their way through the lavishly dressed partygoers, both taking stock of the scene and subtly scanning the crowd.

He leaned over and placed a butterfly-soft kiss on Coulson’s cheek – being careful not to linger or he’d never be able to tear his lips away from the man’s warm skin – and murmured softly in his ear, “Want to get a drink?”

Coulson shivered slightly, before turning his head so they were almost nose-to-nose. “Sounds good to me. I’m suddenly feeling a little dry-mouthed.” His voice was like sandpaper, raising the hairs on the back of Clint’s neck. 

_Oh My God, he’s flirting with me_ , Clint thought desperately. _Right. He’s supposed to be._ He was not equipped to deal with this. It just felt to _real._ He took a deep breath and smiled seductively at Coulson. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” he breathed, “I’m sure I can think of some way to get you wet again.”

Coulson’s eyes darkened even further, the black pools of his pupils spilling into the clear grey of his irises as Clint watched. Clint was momentarily taken off guard witnessing such a strong reaction from Coulson. As he continued to watch him, a light blush started to bleed across Coulson’s cheekbones. Acting the part was one thing, but this wasn’t something you could fake. Clint’s heart leapt as he realised Coulson really was turned on by Clint’s proximity. 

He had thought that their one night together was nothing more than the result of Coulson being drunk, horny, and taking the nearest willing person to bed. But maybe he was wrong?

Clint mentally cursed himself for getting distracted and broke eye contact. He needed to stop. Letting his hopes get up had never worked out well for him, and he certainly didn’t need to be overanalysing and freaking out in the middle of a mission, where he had a key part to play. 

Placing a warm hand on Coulson’s back, he steered him towards the bar, being careful to stay in close contact, soaking in Coulson’s warmth greedily. He could feel the tight muscles in Coulson’s back shifting and flexing as he walked, the tightly coiled power turning Clint on beyond belief. 

He pulled out a stool at the bar, ushered Coulson onto it, and took a seat next to him, settling a hand on Coulson’s thigh as if he had done it a million times before. He received a gentle smile and a steady hand placed on top of his own in return. Clint turned around to flag down one of the bar staff and saw Agent Rani looking at him from behind the bar with a knowing smirk on her face. 

“What can I get for you this evening gentlemen?” she asked politely.

Clint looked at Coulson and raised an eyebrow. 

Coulson smiled at Rani, “Two glasses of champagne please,” he looked at Clint with a smouldering gaze, “We’re in the mood to celebrate.”

Rani nodded and went about pouring their drinks. “Special occasion is it?”

“Oh yes. We got engaged a couple of days ago, and we’re still on a high.” He leaned over and kissed Clint’s cheek softly. 

“Congratulations,” Rani said as Clint tried to will the blush away from his face. 

“Thank you,” Coulson said. “We’ve waited a long time to get to this point. And now I finally get to make an honest man out of him.”

Rani laughed as she placed their drinks on the bar in front of them. “On the house. And good luck with the wedding.” 

Clint smiled at her in thanks and dragged his mind back from the fantasy of him and Coulson stood at an altar, that his brain had decided to torture him with. 

“So, how’s tonight looking?” Clint asked Rani casually. “Shaping up to be a good party?”

“I think so. The night’s sure to hot up as more people arrive. We’re just getting started.” No sign of Decker yet, then. Rani nodded at them and drifted down the bar to serve another customer. 

Clint sipped from his glass before turning on his stool to survey the ballroom curiously. He suddenly felt Coulson’s warm breath on his neck and jumped before he could stop himself. He sat stock-still as Coulson ran his nose up the side of Clint’s face – all the way from the hinge of his jaw to the jut of his cheekbone. Clint swallowed heavily and turned his head slowly towards the other man. Coulson refused to lean back, which left them with their lips just brushing each other’s, as soft as fingertips on silk. 

Coulson pressed a barely-there kiss to the corner of Clint’s mouth before whispering huskily, “Dance with me?”

It was as Clint looked into Coulson’s steel grey eyes that he really knew he was in trouble. And as Coulson placed another painfully gentle kiss to the curve of his jaw, he also realised that he didn’t give a single fuck. He stood abruptly, drained his champagne flute in one gulp and held his hand out to Coulson. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

•••

Phil’s heart felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest as he was pulled up into Clint’s arms. He was still trying desperately to keep his eyes open and look for the target, but suddenly having one of his deepest desires realised – even if it was just an act – made it more than a little difficult to stay focused.

Clint led him to the dance floor and pulled Phil tight against his front, their bodies connecting from shoulders to hips, to knees. Something jazzy and seductive flowed through the air as they began to sway together, arms wrapped securely around waists and necks, not allowing even an inch of space between their bodies. 

Phil pressed his cheek to Clint’s and closed his eyes, breathing in the spiciness of Clint’s aftershave mixed with the earthy scent of leather and coffee that always seemed to cling to Clint, no matter what he was doing or wearing. 

“All agents check in.” Sitwell’s voice floated over the comms. 

“Barton and I are still in the crowd. Target not yet identified,” Phil replied briskly, trying to keep the huskiness out of his voice. Judging by the grin he could hear in Rani’s voice, he didn’t succeed. 

“I’m still behind the bar. No sightings yet.”

“Nothing on the door yet,” Taylor’s rough voice confirmed. “Wait,” Phil felt Clint tense, his hand twitching, no doubt itching for his bow as Taylor continued. “A car’s just pulled up. I think it’s him. Waiting for confirmation.” 

“Acknowledged. Standby.” Sitwell replied.

Clint and Phil continued to dance as they waited. Phil began to rub soothing circles on the smooth skin of the back of Clint’s neck to try and relax him. He was always antsy when he had to go on a mission without his bow. Neither of them were even close to unarmed, but Clint had never been as comfortable with any other weapon, despite his efficiency with almost everything. 

“Confirmed. It’s Decker. All agents be aware and get that tracker placed ASAP.”

“Acknowledged,” four voices chimed. 

Phil and Clint wordlessly started to dance their way closer to the door, ready to back-up Taylor if needed. 

“Target’s entering the ballroom. No tracker placed yet,” Taylor’s slightly irritated voice rumbled.

“I see him,” Rani said.

Phil spun Clint around and dipped him slightly, causing a wry smile to slip onto Clint’s face. Phil grinned smugly and looked up towards the door, seeing Decker swagger in like he owned the place. 

“Target spotted,” Phil murmured. 

Phil pulled Clint upright and danced them in a slow circle so that Clint could get a look at the target. “Target spotted,” Clint echoed.

When Decker came back into Phil’s view, he took a moment to study him. He looked totally unassuming in most ways, but he gave Phil a distinct feeling of unease. For the most part, he looked relaxed and the same as any other guest, but Phil could see his facial expression slipping. He watched Decker for several minutes, and saw the flashes of distaste and even revulsion, as he watched various couples interacting on the dance floor. 

“Target moving towards the bathrooms. Should we engage?” 

“Follow, but keep your distance for now. But any sign of trouble, take him down.” 

“Copy.”

Phil startled softly when he felt a pair of rough hands dragging up his sides under his tuxedo jacket and moving around to rest on his stomach. Clint smiled wickedly before pressing the tip of one finger in between the buttons of Phil’s shirt to tease the skin just above his navel. 

Phil could do nothing but tighten his grip on the back of Clint’s neck, trying to anchor himself as he was nearly swept away on a tidal wave of lust. _From one fucking finger?_

Clint removed his hand and grabbed the front of Phil’s dress shirt in one fist; the material bunching together as Clint began to walk backwards, threading neatly though the crowd and dragging Phil with him. Phil let himself be led, but spared a moment of embarrassment for whatever his face must have looked like at that moment. They know doubt looked exactly like they were about to ravish each other in a public restroom. The fact that that was the intention did not diminish the blush on Phil’s face one bit as he noticed multiple pairs of eyes fixed on them. 

“I know you guys are meant to be in love, but could you tone down the eye-fucking a little,” Rani’s amused voice chimed in Phil’s ear. “It looks as if everyone within ten feet of you two is suddenly in need of a cold shower.” 

Clint ignored her, a shit-eating grin sliding onto his face. 

“Thank you for you’re input, but I’m rather enjoying this,” Phil said under his breath, as though he were whispering sweet nothings in Clint’s ear.

“What a surprise,” Rani retorted.

“Jealous, Nina?” Clint asked.

“I think everyone in this ballroom is jealous,” Rani replied wryly. 

“Still got it,” Clint said cockily. 

“Eyes on the prize, people. You can flirt later,” Sitwell cut through. 

By now Phil and Clint were making their way down the hallway towards the restrooms, Decker just a few metres in front of them. They were ready to follow him into the bathroom, but Decker veered to the right, heading down an almost hidden corridor. Phil gestured for Clint to wait and they both hovered for a few seconds before Clint peered around the corner. 

Phil jerked back in surprise when Clint launched himself back around almost straight away, and shoved Phil hard against the wall, his lips descending on his in a kiss that stunned Phil into stasis. Clint slipped a knee in between Phil’s legs and ground his hips against Phil’s in a sinful undulation that had Phil’s mouth dropping open as a low moan escaped. Clint seized the opportunity to thrust his tongue into Phil’s mouth and bite roughly at Phil’s bottom lip. Phil quickly got with the programme and lost himself in the kiss, giving back as good as he got and threading one hand into Clint’s dishevelled hair, pulling slightly and eliciting a deep, rumbling groan from the archer. 

Clint detached his mouth from Phil’s and ran his lips down his neck, beginning to suck what was sure to be a monster love bite just below his right ear. Phil dropped his head back heavily against the wall behind him to give Clint better access as the hand he still had tangled in Clint’s hair urged him closer. 

Phil had almost completely forgotten where he was and what he was doing when he registered movement at his side, and struggled to focus through the haze of lust surrounding him. He kept his eyes on the ceiling as Clint went to town on his neck, but saw Decker emerging from the corridor out of the corner of his eye. Phil dragged Clint’s face back up to his and their lips connected once again, their panting breaths and wet sounds of their mouths loud in the quiet of the hallway. Decker slid past them quickly with a muttered sound of disgust and disappeared back in the direction of the ballroom. 

Everything seemed to slow after that. Clint slowly drew back with one last nibbling kiss to Phil’s top lip, but stayed close enough that their lips brushed with every exhale. Phil raised the hand not currently buried in Clint’s hair, and pressed his thumb to Clint’s kiss-swollen bottom lip, as Clint rested his forehead against Phil’s. 

“Tracker placed,” Clint choked out between harsh breaths, sounding totally wrecked. 

The words were like a shock of ice water to Phil. He dropped his head back against the wall again and tried to get his breathing back to normal again. 

The mission. That was the important thing here. Not the earth-shattering kiss he had just received, which was evidently nothing more than a distraction. Phil wondered whether it was possible for your heart to literally tear in two. That was certainly what it felt like. 

“Good work, Barton. The signal’s good,” Sitwell stated.

“Coulson… I’m sor—“

Phil held up a hand, cutting Clint off. There was no way he could deal with yet _another_ apology. Anger suddenly flooded him and he clenched his jaw as he rolled his head forward to meet Clint’s gaze. He reached up to tap his earpiece, cutting off the microphone and saw Clint doing the same. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Phil spat, hurt and fury bubbling in his voice. “You aren’t allowed to kiss me like that. Especially after—“ He cut himself off before his voice broke. “You can’t just keep _doing_ this! The mission didn’t require something quite as authentic as that.”

Clint looked almost shell-shocked; his face draining of colour. 

“If you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine. I… I can deal with it. But you can’t just… kiss me like that and expect me to be ok with it.”

“Coulson… I—“

Phil barked out a rough laugh. “You still can’t bring yourself call me Phil? Even after all this?” 

“I—“

“Don’t. Let’s just get this done so we can get the hell out of here.”

Phil collected himself and let the bland Agent Coulson mask fall into place. Something he hadn’t done in front of Clint for years. Clint inhaled brokenly as he looked into Phil’s face. 

“We’re moving back to the ballroom. Anyone have eyes on the target?” Phil asked tersely as he reactivated his comm. He grabbed Clint’s hand and led him back into the crowd. Clint still looked a little pale – anyone else wouldn’t notice in the face of his swollen red lips, tousled hair and rumpled clothes. He looked like he’d just gotten fucked in a broom closet. Phil was sure he did too. 

“In front of the band,” Rani replied. “He’s eyeing up the room with a really weird look on his face. I don’t like it, I’m taking a closer position.”

Phil quickened his pace and headed towards the large stage at the back of the room that the band was perched on. He saw Taylor doing the same from the other side of the room. 

Clint wrapped his arm around Phil’s waist and walked with him, looking for all the world like he simply wanted a closer look at the musicians. 

The arm around his waist suddenly tensed, and Phil whipped around to look at Decker, who had his hand in the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. Phil had a split-second to make a decision, but in the end it wasn’t really a choice at all. He surged forward towards Decker, just as the man had drawn out some kind of space-age looking gun. He heard Clint’s cry of alarm, and a light touch to his shoulder, but didn’t look back. Decker’s eyes widened at seeing Phil heading straight for him, and he raised the gun, but Phil tackled him before he could aim it fully at the crowd. 

Phil took Decker to the shiny floor of the ballroom, pressing him down as he tried to prise the gun from his grip as Decker struggled and thrashed. He could hear screams from the crowd, but kept his focus on the problem at hand. Phil looked up, catching movement, and saw that Clint had Decker in a headlock, trying to incapacitate him. Decker started to thrash even more, hatred poring from his eyes. As his eyes began to slip shut, losing consciousness from lack of oxygen, his lips twitched into a feral grin, and he pulled the trigger. A blinding beam of bright blue light exploded from the weapon and hit Phil directly in the centre of his chest, the force of it throwing him across the room. He last thing he heard was Clint screaming his name before everything went black.

•••

“Phil!” Clint screamed in horror, his eyes glued to Coulson’s still form. _No no no no no._

He dropped Decker’s head to the floor, releasing the headlock and scrambled over to Phil, collapsing at his side. He vaguely registered Rani and Taylor moving in to secure Decker and bag the weapon, as well as Sitwell’s frantic voice in his ear, but he only had eyes for Phil. He laid his shaking hands against Phil’s cheeks before searching his neck desperately for a pulse. He almost dissolved into sobs when he found one, strong and steady. He did, however, pull Phil’s head into his lap and bend down until their foreheads touched, needing to feel Phil’s warmth.

“Barton, report!” Sitwell yelled at him.

“C-Coulson’s down. He’s alive but unconscious, get the medics in here now!”

“Acknowledged. They’ll be with you in three minutes.”

Clint breathed a sigh of relief and hugged Phil tighter against his body. He knew he should be helping the others in corralling the public and helping with extraction, but he couldn’t bear to move even an inch away from Phil. He couldn’t get the image of that beam shooting straight into Phil’s chest, right over where he knew there was the scar from Loki’s spear. Oh God, what if it had damaged Phil’s heart? He checked Phil’s pulse again and willed his own heart to slow. 

Phil would be fine. He had to be. That can’t have been the last conversation Clint would have with him. Phil had to know… How could he _possibly_ think that Clint didn’t want him?

Clint stayed with Phil the whole way back to SHIELD and into the med-bay. Sitwell made a half-hearted attempt to get him into a debriefing, but backed down after the glare he received in return. R&D had the weapon and was trying to determine exactly what it did, and Decker himself was being interrogated to try and gain more info. Phil still hadn’t regained consciousness, but all his vitals were strong. 

As the hours ticked by, Clint began to feel more and more uneasy. He had taken to pacing up and down beside Phil’s hospital bed trying to get his thoughts in order and being increasingly more frustrated by the lack of information they had about Phil’s condition. 

He was just about ready to start tearing his hear out in frustration, when he heard a pitiful groan coming from behind him. Clint pivoted so fast it was a wonder he didn’t sprain something as he rushed to the bed, yelling for the doctor as he went. 

“Phil! Are you ok? Can you hear me?”

“Feel like I got run over by an eighteen-wheeler,” Phil slurred. 

Clint gripped the rail of Phil’s bed to keep from reaching for him. 

Phil’s gaze sharpened when they landed on Clint’s face. “Are you ok?” Phil asked.

Clint choked out a watery laugh. Of course, _of course_ Phil would be worried about Clint while Phil was the one in the hospital bed. Before he could do something stupid (or possibly genius) like plant a relieved kiss on Phil, Dr Weiss came in, frowning down at some notes in his hands. 

“Agent Coulson, good to have you back with us,” Dr Weiss said as he looked up. 

“Thanks,” Phil said as he struggled upright in the bed.

“Are you really ok?” Clint asked anxiously, his hands flitting around Phil uselessly. He turned to the doctor. “Is he alright?”

“He should be fine, Agent Barton. Physically he’s completely unharmed, save for a few bruises from being knocked back onto a solid wood floor. The mental side is slightly more complicated…” Dr Weiss trailed off and made eye contact with Phil. “We’ve just received a report from R&D in regards to the nature of the weapon you were hit with, Agent Coulson. This coupled with the intel gathered from Decker’s interrogation, we feel confidant that we’ve discovered the intent behind the attack.”

“So, what’s the bad news then, Doc?” Phil asked.

“We believe what you were hit with was something akin to a ‘truth-ray’.” Both Phil and Clint’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “As far as we can tell, Decker’s intent was to expose the entire ballroom to the device, thus revealing homosexuality for the ‘lie’ it is. It seems he was expecting everyone in attendance to suddenly begin admitting that they were… choosing a certain lifestyle. Decker’s desire was to reveal everyone’s ‘true nature’ as he puts it.”

“What… What exactly does that mean?” Phil asked, looking a bit dazed. Clint was torn between feeling an overwhelming surge or relief that it wasn’t something so much worse, and just feeling confused and stunned that Decker actually thought that it would work. 

“Well, my colleagues and I believe that because you received a highly concentrated dose from the weapon, it will act more as a truth serum, as I mentioned. I believe you will not be able to lie. We also think you will be compelled to answer any direct questions. But let’s test that shall we?”

Phil had gone a bit pale as Doctor Weiss had been speaking, but met his gaze unflinchingly. 

“Try and tell a lie please, Agent Coulson. Something simple, like ‘my name is Steve’.”

“Phil furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His eyes widened, his breath coming quicker a he tried harder, but still no sound emerged. He slumped back onto the bed and closed his eyes. “I can’t. Oh my God, I can’t.”

“Just as we thought,” Dr Weiss muttered as he made some notes on his clipboard. “Right, let’s test the other theory. I’m going to ask you a question, and I’d like you to try not to answer. What is your favourite colour?”

Phil’s face contorted with effort as he fought to keep his mouth closed, but a strained, “Blue,” managed to punch its way out nonetheless. “Shit,” Phil gasped. 

Clint stepped forward and laid his hand on Phil’s shoulder. “It’s going to be alright, Phil. Don’t freak out until we know there’s something to worry about.”

Phil looked at Clint mutinously. “Of course there’s something to worry about, Clint! Fucking hell, I’m a walking security risk!”

“Agent Coulson, please calm down. Our analysts have been studying the weapon and its effects in the labs, and we are reasonably confidant that this will be temporary. I wouldn’t be surprised if they only lasted twenty-four hours or so. It was never meant to be lasting, Decker only wanted the ‘truth’ as he believed it, to be admitted.”

“Right,” Phil said doubtfully. 

Clint took a steadying breath and turned back to the doctor. “Thanks, Doc. Is there anything else we need to know, or is he ok to go home?” Clint kept his eyes resolutely on Dr Weiss when he felt Phil’s gaze burning in to the side of his face, no doubt having noticed his slip. 

“No, he should be fine, just take it easy for a couple of days. You too, Agent Barton. You’ve both had more than enough excitement for one day.” He smiled kindly at them both before vanishing back through the door. 

“Clint, I—“

“Wait, before you say anything, you have to know that I would never take advantage of this situation. I would never betray your trust like that.”

“Clint, I _know_. Of course I know that. I trust you, I always have. But I have nothing to hide from you. You can ask.” 

Clint suddenly felt faint. How could he mean that after everything Clint had done? And yet… he couldn’t lie.

“I think we have some stuff we need to talk through, but right now I’d really like to get home before somebody askes me something I’d rather not answer.” Phil still looked vaguely uncomfortable, like he was worried he would blurt something out at any moment. 

“Right, yeah. Let’s get you back to the tower. Hmmm,” Clint mused as he moved to help Phil out of the bed. “We might need to have a plan in place so that Stark never finds out about this.”

A look of pure horror flashed onto Phil’s face. 

Clint couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t worry, we’ll sneak you in. And make sure you have your taser.” Phil continued to look a little green. “Hey. If he wants to mess with you, he’ll have to go through me.”

“Thanks,” Phil whispered. “The thought of anyone digging around in my head is enough to cause some serious anxiety, but _Stark_ …” he trailed off with a shudder.

“I can imagine.” Clint said quietly, flashes of phantom blue streaking across his vision.

Phil looked at him sceptically before his eyes widened. “Ah, Loki.”

“Loki,” Clint agreed with a shiver. He still couldn’t even say the slimy little bastard’s name without having the urge to immediately check a mirror for any lingering signs of an unnatural glow in his eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t make the connection.” 

“It’s ok, Boss.”

“No it’s not.”

“Wow, you actually believe that,” Clint said in wonder. “But really, you’re not running on all cylinders right now, you’re allowed to think about yourself. You don’t have to be scary secret agent man holding it together all the time.”

“Feels like it sometimes,” Phil said and bit his lip. “I have to hold it together.”

Clint’s heart ached at the weariness in Phil’s voice. “You have people who care about you, Phil. You can let them pick up the slack.”

Phil shook his head sadly, but his lips quirked up. “You’re finally calling me Phil.”

Clint blushed and ducked his head. 

“I like it. A lot.” Phil admitted in a rush.

Butterflies erupted in Clint’s stomach at the confession. “Phil… I’m sorry about… everything.”

“It’s—“ Phil struggled with the words as the compulsion prevented him from finishing the sentence. It wasn’t ok, and they both knew it.

The whole way back to the tower, Clint was a nervous wreck. He was petrified that he would accidently say something that would force Phil to reveal more than he should, or he’d unintentionally make Phil uncomfortable. Clint hated to admit it, but it was a horrible temptation. Phil was only inches away from him, and for the first time ever, was a completely open book. He could ask _anything_. He wouldn’t, but the realisation that he had that kind of power over Phil made him distinctly uncomfortable. 

He was also aware that he was acting like something resembling a rabid guard dog around Phil. Whenever someone even came close, or opened their mouth around them, he all but bit their heads off. Phil was vulnerable, and Clint’s urge to protect him was going into hyper drive. He knew he was overreacting, but something inside of him twisted painfully every time Phil would flinch and draw in on himself when anyone came near. 

Phil always made him feel safe. He stood up for him at SHIELD and protected him, actually _saw_ him when he first joined, back when he was nothing more than a punk with good aim and an attitude problem. Now, Clint was only too happy to return the favour. 

Phil was physically fine and had no trouble getting around, but that didn’t stop Clint’s constant hovering. Phil looked just like his normal super-agent self, standing tall and once again clad in one of his ubiquitous suits. The only thing that gave away his turbulent state of mind was the constant clenching of his jaw, as though he was trying to force his mouth shut to stop anything revealing from tumbling out unbidden. 

With the help of JARVIS, they managed to sneak into the tower undetected by Tony and straight up to Phil’s floor, where Phil collapsed onto the overstuffed sofa as soon as he saw it. Clint wavered uncertainly in the doorway – uncertain as to whether he was still welcome. 

Phil looked up at him and patted the sofa cushion next to him, coaxing him closer. 

“I’m sorry about what happened at the ball,” Phil said once Clint was settled. “It was a bad idea to do something like that so soon after…” Phil trailed off awkwardly and cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

“Phil, it isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is. I should have tried harder to give you an out, but I was selfish. I just wanted another chance… to pretend for a while.”

Clint’s breath caught. “Pretend?”

“That you wanted me. It was another chance to touch you, hold you, to have you look at me like… like I matter to you. I couldn’t turn it down, even if it was just an act.” Phil voice shook during that confession, but he didn’t break eye contact once. “I know that you don’t feel the same way, but—“

“What?” Clint almost yelled, startling Phil into silence, “Phil, _what?_ You… You want me?” 

“Of course I do, Clint!” Phil burst out. “Or was me jumping you like a sex-crazed maniac the other night not a big enough clue for you?”

“But… But you were drunk! You were off your face on Thor’s fucked up magic mead!”

“So were you!”

Huh, he had him there. “I thought you’d regret it as soon as you sobered up. I had wanted you for so long, and you actually seemed to be willing… I felt awful for taking advantage.” 

“That’s why you were apologising so much?”

“Well, duh. I thought I had fucked everything up in one single moment of drunken weakness.”

Phil looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “At least with this no-lies situation, you might stand a chance of actually believing me. Clint, listen to me very carefully. I thought all my dreams had come true at once that night. I want you. Even my alcohol-addled brain thought that night would be the start of something wonderful.”

“Holy fuck,” Clint breathed, “Are you—“ He broke off with a laugh. “I was going to ask if you’re serious, but obviously you are.” He shifted on the sofa, subconsciously leaning into Phil as if pulled by a magnet. “I’m such an idiot. You mean everything to me, Phil. I’m so sorry I ran away and left you.”

“I forgive you; neither of us were thinking very clearly.” Phil smiled gently at him. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Fuck yes,” Phil gasped. He grabbed Clint and yanked him forward until their lips crashed together. They both laughed against each other’s mouths, giddy with joy. Clint leaned forward even more, toppling them both over horizontally onto the sofa with Clint straddling Phil’s hips. 

“I meant everything I said and did at the ball, Phil. None of it was an act. And when I kissed you… I saw Decker coming and I just reacted, but it was real. I can’t kiss you and pretend that it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I understand. I was mostly frustrated. I damn near forgot my own name when you kissed me like that, let alone that I was supposed to be watching out for a terrorist.” Phil leaned up and swiped his tongue across Clint’s bottom lip. “You are a terrible distraction.” 

“I would say I’m sorry,” Clint mumbled between deep kisses, “But that would be a lie.” 

“Cocky.”

“Justified,” Clint smirked. 

“Yeah, dammit.”

“So,” Clint murmured as he kissed his way up Phil’s neck, pausing to suck lightly at the deep purple bruise he had left there earlier. Phil hissed and bucked his hips into Clint’s. “How about we move this into the bedroom?” He looked up at Phil through his lashes with a coy expression on his face. “I promise to still be there in the morning.”

“You’d better be,” Phil growled, before drawing him up for another kiss. 

“Promise,” Clint repeated throatily, with an marked air of seriousness. 

Phil pulled back to look deep into Clint’s eyes, the soft grey of his irises almost totally swallowed up by black. Clint swallowed hard at the sight of Phil so turned on.

Phil smiled as he pushed lightly at Clint’s chest and slid out from under him before taking his hand and dragging him to the bedroom.

•••

Phil woke the next morning to the best feeling in the world. He was warm, almost uncomfortably so, but he guessed that’s what comes from sleeping with a very cuddly archer wrapped around you. He also had Clint’s hopelessly tousled hair tickling his nose, and one of his elbows digging rather painfully into his hip. He looked down into Clint’s sleeping face and sighed in contentment. This. This was what he wanted. And miraculously Clint seemed to feel the same. He couldn’t stop the silly grin from spreading across his face. They would have to have a serious conversation about their communication skills, but that could wait.

He was studying the sweep of Clint’s eyelashes when they suddenly fluttered as Clint snuffled awake. He looked up at Phil with sleep-heavy eyes, the kaleidoscope of colours dark and warm. Phil had the sudden urge to pinch himself as a sexy smile took over Clint’s face. 

“Morning,” Clint’s sleep-roughened voice rasped.

Phil just continued to smile softly at him. 

Clint propped himself up to kiss him. “What are you thinking about?”

“That I love you,” Phil admitted with a small flash of panic. It seemed the effects of the compulsion hadn’t completely left him yet. 

Clint’s eyes widened comically before a shy smile appeared. “I love you too, Phil. I have for years.” He looked sheepish. “Apparently, I drive Nat crazy with my ‘heart-eyes’. Whatever that means.”

“It means you’re adorable.” 

Clint rolled his eyes and buried his face in Phil’s neck, humming softly. “I could stay here all day.”

“Me too, but something tells me you’ll want feeding soon.”

As if on cue, Clint’s stomach rumbled loudly. He scowled and started to berate it. “Cockblock,” he told his abdomen seriously. 

Phil laughed uncontrollably and tightened his arms around the other man, feeling the world right itself. Finally.

“Come on,” Phil murmured with a kiss to Clint’s forehead. “I’ll make you breakfast. And then we need to find Thor. I owe him a huge thank you.”


End file.
